


Warding Against the Chill

by scarletmanuka



Series: To Rule the Heart [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vimes and Vetinari find themselves sharing a cell, and some revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warding Against the Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Set between The Fifth Elephant and Night Watch

Sam woke, feeling disorientated. It was dark, the room seemed to be swaying, and he felt horrid. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and still couldn’t see anything. He was still swaying from side to side. His mind surveyed the few corner pieces he had of the jigsaw and took in the overall shape and it finally clicked - he was blindfolded and being carried.

Ignoring the way his stomach heaved, he tried to concentrate on the last thing he remembered. He and Sybil had attended the grand opening of the new Hopper Street Public School. His wife had been rather miffed at him that he had arrived late and hadn’t changed out of his soiled guard uniform. He had tried to explain that he had been attending an All Officers and once he’d gotten that sorted if he’d taken the time to go back to the yard and change, he would have been even _later_ . Sybil had smiled sweetly, and nodded in agreement, and taken his arm in an iron grip to lead him to a group of dignitaries who were just _dying_ to meet the Duke of Ankh. He had been married long enough to know that the smile and nods meant nothing - it was the strength of the vice-like grip that indicated how much trouble he’d be in once they got home. He feared for his life.

His inevitable scolding was delayed however when Vetinari intercepted them as they were leaving. With profuse apologies to Sybil, the Patrician advised he needed to discuss an urgent matter with Vimes and would it be at all possible to detain him for some time. Sam felt somewhat put out that his wife waved off Vetinari’s apologies - in fact, she wasn’t at all nonplussed about the interruption. She did however manage to leave the impression that the matter of the dirty and ripped uniform would not be forgotten about and it would be discussed later. To make matters even worse, Vetinari had decided that they would walk back to the palace. Since the gonne injury and the limp that resulted, the man seemed determined to prove that it wasn’t going to slow him down.

They hadn’t gotten far when Sam had felt a sting in his neck. The dizziness hit him almost immediately and he stumbled, just as three figures rushed from the darkness and attacked Vetinari. He had thrown himself forwards in the hope of taking out one of the attackers so the assassin could deal with the remaining two, but his vision had blurred and he blacked out before he could complete his move.

Which brought him back to the present.

The swaying stopped, and he heard the creak of a heavy door being opened. Then there was the sensation of falling as he was thrown through the doorway, and then abrupt pain as he connected with a stone floor. A muffled thump sounded next to him and then the door was slammed shut. Reaching up, Vimes pulled off the blindfold and peered around the room.

He was in a rather large cell - square, stone walls and floors, which were scattered with old hay, one small window (barred) high up in the wall opposite the door, no benches, beds, or other furniture. A small bucket was in one corner, and to one side of the door was a bowl of water. The only light came from the slit in the door and the moonlight filtering in from the window. Crumpled in a heap next to him lay the Patrician. He reached over and gently shook his shoulder.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

There was no response, and he pulled the blindfold from Vetinari’s face. A large gash was pouring blood from his scalp, and the skin surrounding it had already turned a blue-purple colour. The Patrician’s eyes fluttered and he groaned.

“Sir Samuel?” he asked.

“Sir. Can you sit up?”

Vimes put an arm around his shoulders to help him, and soon the Patrician was in a sitting position. The blood that had previously been draining down across his ear and to the floor now began to drip in his eye and down his cheek. Sam picked up a blindfold and folded it into a square pad. He reached up and pressed it to the injury, and then with his free hand guided one of Vetinari’s hands to the pad. “Hold this,” he instructed. The Patrician watched Vimes in silence as he picked up the second blindfold and tied it around his head, knotting it behind the ear, holding the makeshift pad in place. Vimes nodded once in satisfaction. “That should stop it. Scalp wounds bleed like a bitch.”

“I assume you’re familiar with them?”

Vimes shrugged. “Probably more so than the average citizen. Comes with the work.”

Vetinari held his gaze for a few seconds longer than was comfortable and then turned to look around the room. “It appears we are being held prisoner.”

Sam stood and checked the locks on the door. “It does appear that way.”

“Did you get a look at our kidnappers?”

He shook his head and crossed to the small window but it was too high and too small to be any use for escape. “No, sir. They were just shadowy figures before I passed out, and I didn't get the blindfold off until the door was locked.” He licked a finger and held it as far outside the window as he could, and then stood on his tip toes and tried to sniff the outside air.

“Passed out? Are you injured as well?” Vimes couldn’t be certain but it almost looked like a look of concern had flashed over Vetinari’s features for a brief moment.

“Drugged, sir. They used some sort of dart.” He reached up and rubbed the spot on his neck that still throbbed, and then made a circuit of the room, checking the walls for any secret doors or openings. Unfortunately it seemed that this cell wasn’t as conveniently equipped as the ones at the Patrician’s palace.

Vetinari looked thoughtful. “They seem to have done their homework. They knew that they would have more chance of succeeding in their mission if they incapacitated you from a distance. I would guess news of the Vimes Elbow has gotten around.”

Vimes finished his survey of the room and sat with his back against a wall. He crossed his arms in front of him, trying to ward off the chill. “I don’t understand why they didn't drug both of us. Why risk taking you out with a physical confrontation? There’s not many people who would bet against you even if it was three against one.”

A smile ghosted across his lips, and the tall man shifted so his leg was more comfortable. “There are some people who believe that assassins build up a resistance to such drugs so as not to have them used against us.”

Vimes grunted.“Not something I’ve heard before.”

“I didn't say they were smart people. I assume they thought it best not to take chances and decided a blow to the head would be more reliable. Alas, it appears they were right.” He closed his eyes but not before Vimes saw the flash of pain.

“So, any idea of who wants the pleasure of our company so badly? I’m surprised we haven’t heard any demands as yet.”

It was Vetinari’s turn to shrug. “I doubt we’ll hear from our captors tonight - they’ll want us to spend the night agonising over the unknown. It’s a common torture tactic. As for who - well we’re the two most powerful men in the city. There is no shortage of people who would pay great sums to have us in this room.”

“Don’t play that game - you must have some idea. Does it have anything to do with what you so urgently needed to discuss with me tonight?”

A strange look flickered over the Patrician’s face. “No, that would be impossible.”

“Are you sure? The timing doesn’t seem suspicious at all?”

“I am quite certain.”

“Well what did you want to discuss? We may as well speak now since we have nothing better to do.”

“I think it best to leave that discussion for later.”

“It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“It’s really not something I want to talk about here.” It was the cold, detached voice that he used in meetings with the more onerous guild leaders, but the expression on his face did not match at all. He looked hesitant, almost _vulnerable_.

Vimes shook his head, blaming it on the dim lighting. He must have seen wrong. “Well, from what I can judge, we’re being held not too far from the east of the city. As soon as we've been  reported as missing, they’ll put Angua on the case and she’ll track us in no time. I expect the cavalry to arrive about dawn.”

A flicker of surprise passed over Vetinari’s face. “How did you determine that?”

“From the position of the moon and the fact that I can smell the river from here. There’s only a faint breeze so it wouldn’t carry more than a few miles.”

“I’m impressed, Commander.”

“Don’t be. I’d expect any new constable to be able to tell the same thing after a month of patrols. We may as well settle in and wait.” He stood and started scraping the hay on the floor into a pile against the far wall. “You should get some rest,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’ve probably got a concussion. I don't think I’m supposed to go to sleep.”

“That’s a common misconception. You actually need as much rest as you can get so it’s fine to sleep.”

“And again you impress me.”

“And again, it comes with the work. Head injuries are so common in the Watch that Igor did some training sessions on them.” He finished piling the floor covering into a makeshift mattress. “This will hopefully be warmer than lying on the stone.” He crossed to the Patrician and held out his hand to help the man up. “Gods, your hand is cold. You must be freezing.” Looking closer, he could see the shivers wracking the thin body.

Vetinari shrugged. “No point complaining. I don’t think housekeeping will drop off extra blankets.”

Vimes stood and thought for a moment, not realising that he was still holding hands with the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. “I had planned on standing guard tonight,” he began, looking over at the door. “But if you doubt they’ll come in till morning, and if I stay between you and the door just in case, I suppose it should be safe enough…” Vetinari waited patiently as the Commander mulled over an idea and finally nodded to himself. “Right, er, okay then. So, Sybil is always telling me that I produce more heat that the sun. I think it, er, should be enough to keep you warm, sir. So, if you’ll just, er, well, if you’ll just lie down on that side, and I’ll lie down on this side and if we lay back to back…” He trailed off somewhat awkwardly as it dawned on him that he still had a hand clasped in his own. Vimes let go and shuffled to one side to allow the Patrician to fold his tall body down onto the makeshift mattress. Once he was arranged, Vimes lay down next to him and rolled onto his side. A moment later he felt Vetinari’s back brush against his.

“Thank you, Sir Samuel,” the Patrician said quietly.

“No problem, sir. Try and get some sleep.”

Sam closed his own eyes, but knew that he wouldn’t be quick to fall asleep. His body was angled towards the door, ready to jump up at any moment to defend the man behind him. He could feel the chill from the stones below him, already seeping up through the poor protection offered by the hay. He thought of Sybil and how she would worry when he didn't show up and then feel guilty for being mad at him. He wondered how long it would take for Drumknott to notice Vetinari was missing and report it to the Watch. He pondered on who could be behind the kidnapping and what their demands might be. And he felt the tremors as the body pressed against his back suffered through the chill of the night.

He debated with himself for some time before coming to a decision. Vetinari had suffered a head injury. He needed rest, and he wouldn’t get that until he could sleep, and he wouldn’t fall asleep until he was warm. Vimes had already started walking on this path by suggesting they sleep back to back, so it wasn’t really taking it all that farther. Yes, it would mean his back was to the door, but it was a heavy door with many locks and he doubted anyone could sneak up on them. There was really nothing left to think about so he rolled over.

Vetinari opened his eyes at the movement and half turned to see what was wrong. “Lift your shoulders, sir,” Vimes instructed. Looking confused, the Patrician sat up slightly. Vimes slid an arm under to cushion his head, and then pulled the man back against him, laying his other arm over him. He couldn’t see it, but he was positive he _felt_ the eyebrow raise. It didn't stop the man from melting back against the warmth of Sam’s chest. “You’re cold, and this is the quickest way to warm you up,” he said gruffly. “It’s survival, pure and simple. We don't need to bandy it about afterwards.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone that we were cuddling, Sir Samuel.”

“We are _not_ cuddling! We are sharing body warmth.”

Vetinari’s body shook as he chuckled. “Of course.”

They both fell silent, and it wasn’t long before the tremors stopped. Vetinari’s breaths became slower and soon his body relaxed fully as he fell asleep. Only then did Vimes let himself relax, although he had to force his mind to not think about the situation he was in. He most certainly didn’t want to think about how neatly the tall, thin body fit against his own, or how his arm hung perfectly in the hollow above the protruding hip, or how the short dark hair from the head tucked under his chin tickled his Adam’s apple, or how _nice_ it felt to be cuddling. Because, there was no mistaking that this was definite cuddling. And Sam _knew_ that he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable about the situation if he hadn’t been trying to ignore how their relationship had subtly changed in recent times.

Yes, he was happily married. He loved Sybil more than he thought possible. He even loved their unborn child with a ferocity that he didn’t know could exist. But for some unknown reason he found himself extending his meetings at the palace by bringing up trivial matters, or arguing a little more than he used to just to prolong the debate. He even found himself looking forward to social functions if he knew that Vetinari would be there. He had not given much thought to the reasons behind his actions, but here in the dark, in the quiet, with his arms wrapped around the man, he knew it was time to devote some brain matter to the situation.

How exactly did he feel about Vetinari? At one time he thought he hated the man. The way the Patrician could so easily manipulate Vimes into doing what he wanted drove him up the wall. And the snarky, sarcastic comments, really irked him. As well as that glare from those icy blue eyes when he didn't get his own way. And let’s not even mention the ridiculous, stupid, sexy eyebrows and the way they quirked up into that stupidly delicate arch.

Wait...since when did he find the eyebrow thing sexy? Was he seriously considering the possibility he was attracted to _Vetinari_ ? He hadn’t been bopped on the head as well, had he? And if he _was_ seriously considering it, what was he going to do about it? He was married and he had never even contemplated cheating on Sybil. Yes, that sort of thing happened all the time in polite society and was just as politely hushed up, but even in less polite circles two men together wasn’t exactly embraced. Sure, people were becoming more and more accepting these days - no one had any issues with a dwarf and a werewolf dating, or a human and a vampire pushing the trust boundary, but for some reason they still found the idea of two people of the same gender being physically intimate _icky_. And when the two people involved were the Patrician and the Commander of the City Watch (and don’t forget the Duke of Ankh) then the ickiness wasn’t just personal - it was political.

So, it wasn’t likely that there was any way he’d be able to act on the newly discovered feelings, so what did that leave? Quietly pushing them down to the dark depths of his soul and pretend he’d never had this little internal debate? Tell Vetinari of the feelings, step down from his position, and run away to the country? Don’t say anything until it all gets too much and then jump the man at the most inappropriate time available (as per the Rules of the Universe)?

Vetinari murmured in his sleep, and it almost sounded like he’d said “Sam” but he didn't follow up with anything else but just shuffled about. Vimes could feel the lean tautness of the man’s back muscles rubbing against his chest and he let himself remember what that skin looked like without that dusty black robe in the way. He was surprised at just how many details had stuck in his mind. The time he’d seen the Patrician partially disrobed had been when he was checking every nook and cranny of the man’s bedroom when he’d been poisoned and he hadn’t thought he’d paid that much attention to it. But he vividly recalled how pale the skin was, and how the sleek muscles had rippled underneath. Vetinari was very tall, and very thin, but he wasn’t skeletal - he was just honed to be as lethal as possible. When compared to his wife’s build, Sam wouldn’t have thought he’d find those qualities attractive, and yet his body was reacting in a very positive manner. He scooted backwards a little so as not to poke the Patrician awake. His mind continued in circles for some time as he felt his eyes start to droop. It wasn’t long before he stopped fighting it and allowed himself to fall asleep.

Sometime later, Vimes was ripped from his slumber by the clanging of bells. He tried to leap up from his position but found he was being held down. The bells stopped and he looked wildly around, trying to determine what was going on. As his eyes adjusted again to the dim moonlight, he realised that some time while he was sleeping, Vetinari had rolled over. The man’s arm was thrown over Sam and their legs were tangled together. The Patrician’s head was still pillowed on Sam’s (now numb) arm and his face was pressed against his chest.

“Ignore them,” Vetinari murmured without opening his eyes. “It’s another torture tactic designed to interrupt our sleep. It’ll happen several more times I’m sure.”

“Sounds pleasant,” Sam grumbled.

The Patrician pulled his head back a little and opened his eyes. They were close enough that even in the poor lighting, they could see each other quite clearly. There was an indecipherable look on his face, but he remained silent.

After the silence had gone on just long enough to become awkward, Vimes cleared his throat. “Are you warm enough, sir?”

Vetinari hummed. “Mmmm, yes, I’m rather toasty. Thank you, Sir Samuel.”

“Anytime,” he said without thinking.

“I thought you were opposed to cuddling?”

He looked sharply at the assassin and noticed the hint of a amusement on the normally passive face. “I thought we agreed it wasn’t cuddling?”

“Are we sticking with that story?”

Sam sighed. “Okay, _fine_. I agree that if we looked this up in a dictionary, it would be described as cuddling.”

“Sir Samuel,” Vetinari said with a deadpan expression, “If you looked up the definition of the word cuddling in a dictionary, there would be a _picture_ of what we’re doing.”

Vimes scowled. “Was that really necessary?”

“Probably not. I would like to point out however that as much as you seem conflicted as to how this is labeled, you haven’t let go.”

“Neither have you, sir.”

“Isn’t that interesting.”

They both fell quiet, but their gazes didn't break, and their legs remained tangled. There was another clanging of bells and Sam only just managed to hold back a flinch. As the noise died down, he cleared his throat. “So what does this mean exactly?”

“Perhaps it’s time to have that discussion that we never got to have last night,” the Patrician suggested.

“I didn’t peg you for the deflecting type, sir.” Sam couldn’t keep the pout off his lips.

“This isn’t deflection,” Vetinari said gently. “The conversation I wanted to have with you was personal in nature.”

“Personal, sir?”

“Yes, personal. And considering our current positions, I think you can drop the ‘sir’ don’t you think?”

Vimes grunted. “That might be a hard habit to break.”

Vetinari’s lips twitched into a smirk. “I’m sure you can put your mind to it if you really wanted to.”

“Maybe. So, what was this personal conversation you wanted to have?”

Sam heard the taller man swallow loudly and was amazed to realise that Vetinari was nervous.“It was brought to my attention some weeks ago that I had possibly developed feelings for you that are not in line with our current professional relationship.”

“Brought to your attention by _whom_?” They was a note of panic in the Commander’s voice.

“There’s no need to fear, Sir Samuel. It wasn’t raised by someone with nefarious intent.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he spluttered. “Who the hell was it?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course I’m bloody well sure I want to know! Just who has been gossiping about us?”

“None other than Lady Sybil.”

It was Sam’s turn to gulp down a swallow. “Sybil?”

“She cornered me at a one of Lady Selachii’s insufferable functions and told me of her observations. I must admit, I was rather taken aback at first, but the more thought I gave it, the more I could see she was right. I do seem to have developed...feelings for you.”

“Gods, what was her reaction?”

He looked thoughtful. “Not what you’d expect. She was very _kind_ about the situation. She told me what her observations were, gave me some time to think about them, and then asked if she was right. When I said that she was, she told me that she feels that there are two Sam Vimes in this world - the one who is her husband and comes home every night, and the other, who belongs to the city and the night. She said that she does all she can for her husband but she feels that she can’t provide everything the other Sam needs. She told me that she believes you too have developed an affection for me, and that perhaps I could be what the other Sam needs.”

“She _really_ thinks there’s another part of me that doesn’t belong to her?”

“Do you think she’s wrong?”

There was a long pause as Vimes looked deep inside. He sighed. “No, I think she’s right. She usually is.”

“Was she then also right about the other part?” Even in the faint moonlight, Sam could see the flicker of uncertainty cross Vetinari’s face. “Do you have deeper feelings for me than you really should, Sir Samuel?”

“You know, considering our position, you can probably drop the ‘sir’,” Vimes parroted back at him. He smirked as surprise replaced the uncertainty. “Sybil is always right. Damn her, I wish she wasn’t, but yes, I do seem to have grown rather attached to you.”

The clanging of bells followed this revelation and while they waited for the noise to abate, their eyes remained locked. Sam became very aware of how their bodies were pressed against each other, and how much he wanted to be pressed even closer.

“So, Sybil said she was fine if we chose to...pursue this?” Sam asked once it had fallen quiet again.

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Thinking hard, Sam came to a decision. “Look, I really need to discuss this with Sybil in person. As much as I’m sure this isn’t one of your twisty little games, for something this big, I need to hear the words from her before we do anything.”

“I fully understand.”

“And perhaps we’ll need to also have a discussion with you.”

Vetinari nodded. “I’m sure there will be things that need to be agreed upon. Negotiations to be made.”

“And I wouldn’t want it becoming common knowledge.”

“Neither would I. You’re already placed in too much harm’s way because of your habit of saving my life and defending me. I won’t add to that.”

“And obviously once the baby comes there might be changes.”

“Of course.”

“But maybe we can give this a go.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Vimes reached down and clasped Vetinari’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “I guess that’s decided then.”

Vetinari didn't answer but leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Just to get me by until you can talk to her.”

A soft moan escaped from Sam. “Dammit, why did you do that? Now I know what it feels like and I want to do it again but I need to wait until I can talk to Sybil.”

“Let’s hope the cavalry arrive soon then so you can get home to have that discussion.”

As if on cue, there came a howl. Sam grinned. “Right on time.”

As they staggered to their feet they could hear the sound of a door and part of a wall being destroyed by the Piecemaker, and the shouts of alarm as the Watch swarmed the building. They stood, hand in hand, waiting for rescue, and the start of something new.  



End file.
